"Ham and eggs or kidneys, Tom? There, try both--they go well together."
"Thank you, uncle," faltered the boy; and he involuntarily looked up at
Uncle Richard, who sat opposite to him, and saw that, though his face
was perfectly stern and calm, his eyes were fixed upon him with a
peculiar twinkling glitter.
"Bread, my boy?" he said quietly, and he took up a knife and the loaf.
"Try a French roll, Tom," said his aunt, handing the dish.
"How can I run away?" thought Tom, as he bent over his breakfast to try
and hide his agitation, for his breast was torn by conflicting emotions,
and it was all he could do to continue his meal. "It's of no use," he
said to himself, as the conversation went on at the table; and though he
heard but little, he knew that it was about the guest departing that
morning for his home in Surrey.
"Yes," said Uncle Richard, "I must get back, for I'm very busy."
"And not stay another night?" said Aunt Fanny sweetly.
"No, not this visit, thanks. I'll get back in good time, and astonish
Mrs Fidler. Hallo, squire, you're late; Tom has half finished the
kidneys."
"Morning, uncle," said Sam sourly; "I didn't know it was so late. I've
got a bad headache this morning, ma."
"Have you, dear?--I am so sorry. But never mind, I've a nice strong cup
of tea here, and I'll ring for some dry toast."
"No, don't, ma," said Sam, scowling at Tom, and looking wonderingly at
his cousin's plate. "I'll have coffee and a hot roll."
"But they will be bad for your head, love."
Sam made no reply, but felt his plate, which was nearly cold, and then
held it out to his father for some kidneys.
"Oh, Sam, my darling, don't have kidneys, dear. I'm sure they'll be bad
for you."
"No, they won't, ma," he said pettishly; and his father helped him
liberally.
Uncle Richard went on with his breakfast, making believe to see nothing,
but Tom noticed that his keen eyes glittered, and that nothing escaped
him. Those eyes were wonderful, and fascinated the boy.
Suddenly, just as he had made a very poor breakfast, the clock on the
chimney-piece gave a loud _ting_. It was the half-hour, and Tom rose
quickly after a hasty glance at his uncle and aunt. He had had
breakfast for the last time, and feeling that this change of treatment
was only due to his Uncle Richard's presence, he was more determined
than ever to go.
"Good-bye, Uncle Richard," he said firmly, but there was a husky sound
in his voice.
"No, no, sit down, Tom," was the reply. "We won't say good-bye yet."
Sam stopped eating, with a bit of kidney half-way to his mouth, and
stared.
"Yes, sit down, Tom," said Mr Brandon, giving a premonitory cough,
after a glance at his wife. "The fact is, my lad, your uncle and I had
a little conversation about you after you were gone to bed last night."
Tom, who had subsided into his chair, took hold of the table-cloth, and
began to twist it up in his agitation, as a peculiar singing noise came
in his ears; and as he listened he kept on saying to himself--"Too
late--too late; I must keep to it now."
"Yes, a very long talk," said Uncle Richard.
"Very," acquiesced his brother; "and as we--as he--"
"As _we_, James," said Uncle Richard.
"Exactly--could not help seeing that you do not seem cut out for the
law--er--hum--do not take to it--he has been kind enough to say that he
will give you a trial with him down in the country."
Tom's head, which had been hanging down, was suddenly raised, and the
words were on his lips to say No, he could not go, when he met the keen,
bright, piercing eyes fixed upon his, and those words died away.
"He has not definitely decided as to what he will put you to, but means
to test you, as it were, for a few months."
The singing in Tom's ears grew louder.
Go with that cold stern man, who had never seemed to take to him? It
would be like jumping out of the frying-pan into the fire. Impossible!
He could not--he would not go.
"There," said Mr Brandon in conclusion, after a good deal more, of
which Tom heard not a word; "it is all settled, and you will go down
with your uncle this morning, so you had better pack up your box as soon
as we leave the table. Now what have you to say to your uncle for his
kindness?"
"No: I will not go," thought Tom firmly; and once more he raised his
eyes defiantly to that searching pair, which seemed to be reading his;
but he did not say those words, for others quite different came halting
from his lips--"Thank you, Uncle Richard--and--and I will try so hard."
"Of course you will, my boy," said the gentleman addressed, sharply.
"But mind this, the country's very dull, my place is very lonely, all
among the pine-trees, and you will not have your cousin Sam to play
with."
"Haw haw!"
This was a hoarse laugh uttered by the gentleman in question.
"I beg your pardon, Sam?" said Uncle Richard, raising his eyebrows.
"I didn't speak, uncle," said Sam, "but I will, and I say a jolly good
job too, and good riddance of bad rubbish."
"Sam, dear, you shouldn't," said his mother, in a gentle tone of
reproof.
"Yes, I should; it's quite true."
"Hold your tongue, sir."
"All right, father; but we shall have some peace now."
"And I am to have all the disturbance, eh?" said Uncle Richard; "and the
china vases thrown at me and smashed, eh?"
Tom darted a quick look at his uncle, and saw that he was ready to give
him a nod and smile, which sent a thrill through him.
"You'll have to lick him half-a-dozen times a week," continued Sam.
"Indeed," said Uncle Richard good-humouredly; "anything else?"
"Yes, lots of things," cried Sam excitedly; "I could tell you--"
"Don't, please, my dear nephew," said Uncle Richard, interrupting him;
"I could not bear so much responsibility all at once. You might make me
repent of my determination."
"And you jolly soon will," cried Sam maliciously; "for of all the--"
"Hush, Sam, my darling!" cried his mother.
"You hold your tongue now, sir," said Mr Brandon; "and I should feel
obliged by your making haste down to the office. You can tell Pringle
that your cousin is not coming any more."
Tom started, and looked sharply from one to the other.
"Mayn't I go and say good-bye to Pringle, uncle?" he cried.
"No, sir," said his Uncle James coldly; "you will only have time to get
your box packed. Your uncle is going to catch the ten fifty-five from
Charing Cross."
"Yes," said Uncle Richard; "and you can write to your friend."
"Or better not," said Mr Brandon. "Tom has been rather too fond of
making friends of people beneath him. There, my lad, you had better go
and be getting ready; and I sincerely hope that you will make good use
of your new opportunity."
Tom hardly knew how he got out of the room, for he felt giddy with
excitement. Then he was not going to run away, but to be taken down
into Surrey by his Uncle Richard--and for what?
Would he behave well to him? He looked cold and stern, but he was not
on the previous night. Young as he was, Tom could read that there was
another side to his character. Yes, he must go, he thought; and then he
came face to face with Mary, who came bustling out of a bedroom.
"La! Master Tom, how you startled me. Not gone to the office?"
"No, Mary. I'm going away for good with Uncle Richard."
"Oh, I am glad! No, I ain't--I'm sorry. But when?"
"This morning--almost directly."
"My! I'll go and tell cook."
Tom reached his room, packed up his things as if in a dream, and bore
the box down-stairs, his cousin having left the house some time. Then,
still as if in a dream, he found himself in the breakfast-room, and
heard Mary told to whistle for a cab.
Ten minutes later his uncle's Gladstone was on the roof side by side
with the modest old school box; and after saying good-bye to all, they
were going down the steps.
"Jump in first, Tom," said Uncle Richard, "and let's have no silly
crying about leaving home."
Tom started, and stared at his uncle with his eyes wonderfully dry then,
but the next moment they were moist, for two female figures were at the
area gate waving their handkerchiefs; and as the boy leaned forward to
wave his hand in return, mingled with the trampling of the horse, and
the rattle of the wheels, there came his uncle's voice shouting Charing
Cross to the cabman from the kerb, and from the area gate--
"Good-bye, Master Tom, good-bye!"
"Why, the boy's wet-eyed!" said Uncle Richard in a peculiarly sneering
voice. "What a young scoundrel you must have been, sir, to make those
two servants shout after you like that! There, now for a fresh home,
boy, and the beginning of a new life, for your dear dead mother's sake."
"Uncle!" gasped Tom, with the weak tears now really showing in his eyes,
for there was a wonderful change in his companion's voice, as he laid a
firm hand upon his shoulder.
"Yes, Tom, your uncle, my boy. I never quarrel with my brother James or
his wife, but I don't believe quite all that has been said about you."
All thought of running away to seek his fortune faded out of Tom
Blount's brain, as he sat there with his teeth pressed together, staring
straight away between the horse's ears, trying hard to be firm.
But after long months of a very wretched life it was stiff work to keep
his feelings well within bounds.